Fragmentation III
by Sakura123
Summary: Subroutine 'verse. The final two fragments of the Subroutine short story series, focusing primarily on Mercury, Quorra, Jet Bradley and Sam Flynn.
1. Disappear into the trees

_**Fragmentation III**_

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**Title:** Disappear into the trees

**Summary:** file two: divide and conquer, hide and deceive.

**Disclaimer:** Tron/Tron: Legacy and all things related are property of Steven Lisberger, Bonnie MacBird and Walt Disney Studios (and some other guys I'm probably forgetting but can't care to remember).

* * *

Quorra sat silently on the floor of the Solar Sailer, eyes downcast and focused on her bare hands - cracked and stiff from baton abuse. The silence of the open world juxtaposed against the city sirens and spotlights in the distance, made the reality of her situation all the more clear. "Are you alright?" Mercury's melodic voice snapped the young program out of her stupor; the elder program kneeled in front of her, pale blue eyes and complexion illuminated by the white circuitry of the sailer.

"No," Quorra shook her head. Her gaze turned toward the city shrinking in the distance. "Everyone's being deleted as we speak, how can I be fine about that?" Mercury shook her head; she dare not supplement an excuse or kind of false morale for her friend. There was no denying the truth in front of their eyes; basics and ISOs alike were being nullified in the name of "justice" and "peace", to be even seen with an ISO was an immediate death sentence for a basic program (let alone a game bot), yet here she was helping one. The simple fact that she managed to get just the two of them out of the city undented amongst the chaos was a blessing from the User.

Rising from her crouched position Mercury started toward the back of the sailer, arms folded. "If we're lucky, we'll able to bypass the Port Authority and get you into the outlands without issue," She explained, fiddling with the controls. "We can't use this mode of transportation for long as it's connected to the core system; we're most likely being tracked as we speak."

"What about you, Mercury?" Quorra regarded the back of the game bot with uncertainty. The entire time she was leading her to escape none of her plans ever seemed to include her; it wasn't a bother a first, but now, now that they were so close to freedom, Quorra needed to know. Mercury turned away from the control panel and smiled. "It would be too risky for the both of us to go. There are others that need my help getting out," She said. "You'll do fine on your own."

"Mercury, going back to the city is too much of a risk! You'll be deleted on sight if they find you helped me," Quorra argued. Rising from the floor she closed the distance between them and hugged her. "Please come with me, I can't lose you too."

Mercury, however unfamiliar she tended to behave when confronted with moments of intimacy such as this, allowed her arms mimic Quorra's and hugged her back. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Clu and Ma3a have to be stopped, and we can't do that without help." Pulling away from the Sprite Mercury returned to monitoring the systems of the sailer. "We have to show them we won't and _cannot _stand for this kind of tyranny in a free system. Once you're in the Outlands, find Flynn."

"Flynn?"

"The creator," Mercury replied. "He had the highest access on the Grid; data streams, I/O nodes, portals, everything. If we find him, maybe we can end this."

"Are you sure?"

"No, but it's worth a try. Anything is at this point," Mercury turned to face Quorra one last time, a weary smile on her lips. "Our survival is key. We have to do everything in our power to ensure it," She said. "I know you can do this, Quorra. You have to." Quorra bit the inside of her mouth, taken aback by her Mercury's words. No choice, no other option than the road presented to her? It hardly seemed fair to the ISO, but considering the circumstances, maybe a singular path was necessary, however problematic.

Pressing her fingers against her palm, Quorra nodded solemnly. "Alright, I'll find Flynn and come back with help," She said.

"No, you can't return to the city, Quorra. Just do what you can with the survivors, build a resistance strong enough to fight them," Mercury warned.

Quorra wanted to argue against Mercury's insistence to play the martyr of their cause; she didn't see the point in going back despite the positives her friend presented. There was too great a risk of being caught before she even got to do anything. "Mercury, don't get caught."

In spite of the doubt she was feeling, Mercury smiled. "I'll try not to."

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**FIN.**


	2. They're trying to catch you

**Title:** They're trying to catch you

**Summary:** file one: breaking and entering, fleeing and riding.

**Disclaimer:** Tron/Tron: Legacy and all things related are property of Steven Lisberger, Bonnie MacBird and Walt Disney Studios (and some other guys I'm probably forgetting but can't care to remember).

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As far as cause and effects went, leaning against the closest support beam next to him was probably a bad idea. In the time it took them to cross the lot without being detected, climbing through the cramped window and navigating through the dark with dying flashlight, having the next obstacle be a literal alarm ringing over your head probably wasn't you wanted to hear.

Jet shut his lighter and turned to look over his shoulder; Sam's arm moved away from the small red box that held the instrument of their destruction, a look pure frustration on his face. High above them beams of light danced across the ceiling, their movement all over the place. "Perfect, excellent work genius," Jet grumbled. Now all they were missing were dogs.

"I didn't see the alarm!" Sam hissed, indignant. Unplugging his compact from the mainframe, Jet tossed it over to Sam who barely caught it as it sailed past his face. Neither had to tell the other what to do, they took off into the maze of supercomputers and headed toward the alternate route of escape. As they entered the darkness of the hallway the room they exited was illuminated by the lights of their pursuers.

Like a something out of a nightmare, the way out was barely a shape in the poor light supplied by the flickering flashlight in Sam's hand. Jet lead them down the hall until they reached the fork, Sam took a chance and ran to the right, grabbing his friend by the lapel of his jacket. Jet followed without argument, hand pressed against the wall as a means of navigating.

Their environment opened up and became fluorescent as security entered the hall they traveled. Like cats outmaneuvering the enemy they sprinted through the double doors past the security desk toward the exit. There was no chance to catch them once they exited the building. Stumbling down the stairs Jet was one step behind Sam as he hurried across the street. He wild haired boy leapt onto his motorcycle and revved the engine. "Get on, slowpoke, they're gonna catch us!"

Jet waved him off, a grin on his face. Hoping onto the back, Jet secured his arms around Sam's waist as the cycle lurched away from the curb and into the street. No traffic to impede them, Sam was able to put a good distance between them and the ENCOM building. "Think it worked?" He asked his friend after a moment.

Jet peered over Sam's shoulder; eyes squinted against the wind hitting him square in the face. "We'll know first thing tomorrow," Jet answered.

"Yeah, well I hope your dad likes the surprise."

"If he doesn't, you can bill me."

Sam kept his eyes on the road as he said, "It's a pretty big bill."

"I think I can handle it," Jet replied. "It's not everyday I get to celebrate pop's birthday with a company prank. It should cheer him up."

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**(FIN)**


	3. BONUS TALE: Silvia

_**Silvia**_

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**Title:** Silvia

**Summary:** Sam and Jet muse over the importance (or lack thereof) of hair and likability.

**Disclaimer:** _Tron/Tron 2.0/Tron Legacy_ and all things related are property of Steven Lisberger, Donnie MacBird and Walt Disney Studios (and some other guys I'm probably forgetting, but don't care to remember).

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It wasn't Sam's place, really. Any seemingly emotional compromise that Jet appeared to have suffered was, on most days, something he could easily sort out on his own. That's how he did things, on his own and apart from the rest of anyone he knew. That said, it was rather hard to ignore the sour expression on his face as he was sitting right next to him. "Something the matter?" He inquired. Jet shrugged his shoulders; he spun his fork around the plate, gathering the spaghetti around the utensil. "Nah, not exactly," Jet replied, stuffing his mouth with more food than necessary. Sam sipped on his soda, one eyebrow quirked and his suspicions high. "You look like someone walked on your dog and called it ugly," Sam said.

When Jet swallowed the spaghetti, he said, "I mean it's nothing earth-shatteringly important. Silvia just told me she could be seen with me in public because of my hair," Jet's tone gained the right kind of intensity and edge to make Sam paused. The soda in Sam's mouth went down the wrong side of his throat and nearly regurgitated itself through his nose. He put the soda can down and coughed the rest of his drink up in order to save himself from an untimely drowning. He let out a short-lived fit of laughter that was cut short by an elbow to the ribs.

"That's not funny, man; my girlfriend dumped me and because my mother thought it would be a good idea to give me a trim up," Jet grumbled. "I mean, I know it's not the greatest, but what's wrong with the close cut?" To be honest, there wasn't anything wholly offensive about his hair; if anything it reminded him of a porcupine if a porcupine had no quills.

"It usually looks better on middle aged celebrities with bad dye jobs, which is something you aren't," Sam retorted. "Besides, I think she was only attracted to your six pack anyway."

"Seriously?"

"Dude, you did not see the looks she was giving you whenever she came around the pool?" Sam shuddered and gave Jet a pointed look, one that resulted in a wholly disappointed moan from his friend.

Jet chewed on the tips of his fork, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes downcast. "Why don't I have any luck with girls?"

"Why don't you ask Alan- ouch!" Sam dropped his soda can and reached back to clutch his head. Jet shook his head and continued to eat his Spaghetti.

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**FIN.**


End file.
